


Morning Light

by gonekrazy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Insecure Mycroft, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:52:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonekrazy/pseuds/gonekrazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a short scene that popped into my head after reading the fantastic Mydwynter's Armistice. It fits into the end of  Chapter 5, as Mycroft's POV for that morning. I hope it isnt too presumptious to add in, I love this fic and I can't get enough Mystrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mydwynter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydwynter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Armistice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/988967) by [mydwynter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydwynter/pseuds/mydwynter). 



> This is my first fic, so please leave feedback. Un-beta'd and not brit-picked, so the mistakes are mine, but the characters are not.

Mycroft woke to find that night was ending. He gasped as he felt the warmth and weight of the man beside him, as moments of the hours before flooded back to him. He pulled one arm under his head and turned to look at the sleeping detective inspector. Lestrade lay on his back, and Mycroft watched his chest rise and fall. He wanted to reach out and touch him, but resisted the urge, afraid to find the spell broken. Mycroft realized his infatuation with the policeman was obstinately growing, but he couldn't hope Greg felt the same. He hadn't invited anyone to spend the night in a long time, but he knew the drill of the morning after well enough. The possibility of rejection from his advances stung his mind. It wouldn't be the first time he'd imagined the intimacy in the dark carried over to the light, and the disappointment had been bruising. Would be, he thought, if he had to see the suprise turn to regret in those soft brown eyes. He looked a moment longer, then quietly pulled out of bed. As he moved to dress he caught sight of himself in the mirror and stopped a moment at his appearance. The soft light was no more forgiving in his eyes. He took in the wayward hair and pale skin, tired features and unshapely body. Behind him in the reflection he could see Greg, half exposed by the blanket. His eyes swept from the athletic leg poking out, passed the skilled hands, up to the broad shoulders of the tanned man's muscled chest. The striking line of his jaw turned against the pillow, his expression softened by sleep, but his features no less attractive. Mycroft paused to stare at the handsome man and wonder how he found his way to his bed. For a moment he toyed with the idea of crawling back in beside his late night partner but quickly shook off the temptation. As Greg shifted in his sleep Mycroft realized he'd been lingering and moved to continue dressing. You fool, Mycroft thought bitterly as he tried to quell his affection. He was certain a casual encounter would mean nothing to someone who could have it so easily. He wrote a brief note to explain his absence for politeness sake, then forced himself to leave.


End file.
